For Juliet's Ears Only
by Nefertiri's Handmaiden
Summary: It's not that he said he loved her. It's how and, more precisely, when he'd said he loved her. Shawn aims to figure it out. Reference to "Shawn Rescues Darth Vader." Set sometime after that episode.


For Juliet's Ears Only

By Nefertiri's Handmaiden

Disclaimer: If I owned Psych, the whole damn thing would be sappy Shules scenes. So I guess it's a good thing I'm not Steve Franks, huh?

Note: It's not that he said he loved her. It's how and, more precisely, when he'd said he loved her. Shawn aims to figure it out. References to "Shawn Rescues Darth Vader." Set sometime after that episode.

-PSYCH-

Shawn was a talker. That was for sure.

He knew it and didn't apologize for it.

He could talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk, talk all day long. About anything. Usually, it was stuff of no substance.

Sometimes it was stuff of a lot of substance in which he revealed killers, counterfeiters, kidnappers, and all manner of nefarious persons.

Also he liked to make fun of Lassie. He had whole soliloquies prepared about that topic.

But there were some things Shawn really, really did not like to talk about. Usually these things had to do with his feelings. Because he was kind of crap at dealing with them, and he tried to bury them as much as he could, anyway.

So when he blurted out to Lassie - and everyone else he knew, pretty much - that he was in love with Jules, it was not a good day.

Not because he wasn't in love with Jules. That wasn't the problem at all. The problem was that he hadn't really thought about how he was in love with Jules, and it wasn't really something that he should have blurted out in public. It should have been something for her ears only.

Because he trusted her with those feelings, but not really anyone else.

Well, maybe Gus.

So he wasn't prepared to talk. Not at all. Not until he had time to digest that feeling: Get used to it being the truth and the way things were.

And Juliet seemed to get that, because she never pressed him on it. She just asked that once if he wanted to talk, and when he said no, she backed off and let him do things at his pace.

God, he really did love her.

And then one day, he was sitting at his desk in the Psych office, and he realized that he was okay with being in love with her. The thought didn't scare him anymore. It just was, and that was good.

He smiled to himself.

-PSYCH-

When he let himself into her apartment that evening with the key she'd given him, he was singing an '80s ballad softly to himself and dancing a little bit.

She was in the kitchen, he noted immediately as he heard the clatter of plates and the smell of something delicious cooking. He smiled.

He set his motorcycle helmet on the floor near the door in its customary place and made his way to the kitchen quietly. Jules liked to listen to her iPod while she cooked - probably she hadn't even heard him come in.

Sure enough, she was dancing around the kitchen, earbuds in her ears, lip-singing whatever she was listening to (probably Katy Perry, from the soft beat he could make out), stirring the contents of a pot with a wooden spoon (spaghetti sauce) and then opening the fridge to find something (Parmesan cheese). The smell of baking garlic bread emanated from the oven.

He watched her for a moment, imprinting her in his memory so that he could pull up the image next time he was lonely for her. She'd changed from her work clothes into a pair of dark-wash jeans (he noted they were her button-flies) and a loose-fitting purple sweater. She was barefoot, as she preferred to be at home, her pretty little feet tapping softly against the blue and white tile of the kitchen floor. Her toes were painted sparkly, metallic red and peeped out from beneath her jeans when she moved. She spun her pony-tailed hair (secured with a purple tie that matched her sweater) around a couple of times before stirring the boiling pot of pasta one more time, tasting a strand, and then dumping the whole thing into the strainer waiting in the sink.

Finally, she turned around and caught sight of him, watching her with a grin from the doorway to the kitchen. She jumped a second before she had him fully in her sights and pressed a hand to her chest. Then she pulled the earbuds from her ears. "God, Shawn. You startled me," she said as she turned off her iPod and set in on the counter. She stepped toward the pasta sauce still simmering on the stove and ran the wooden spoon through it a few times. When he didn't give her back a funny comment about how offended he was that she'd missed his presence, she turned back to face him and jumped again when she found him one step away from her.

"Shawn! What is-" She stopped abruptly and her breathing hitched when he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close to him, leaned in and set his face against hers.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

But when his lips never actually met hers, she had to ask. "Shawn, what are you doing?" she questioned, heart already pounding.

His long, straight nose was pressed along the side of hers. He curved a small grin that she felt rather than saw. "Don't you remember, Jules? Very close talking," he murmured. His voice was deeper than usual.

She inhaled deeply. He smelled like sea salt, citrus and motor oil. "I remember," she breathed, winding her arms around his neck.

"Then why did you ask?"

"This is a little closer than the last time we close-talked," she remarked, feeling where their bodies touched from chest to hip and the strong weight of his arms around the small of her back.

He could feel the soft puffs of air from her lips when she spoke and taste the moisture from her breath on his lips. "And whose fault is that?" he responded, amused and aroused.

She rolled her eyes and saw his eyes squint at the corners with a smile. "Do you have something to say?"

He inhaled deeply through his mouth. The coolness of the air as he breathed in and the friction of his chest against hers as it expanded made a shiver run down her spine. "Yeah, I've actually got something this time," he said, his voice strangely serene for a man who was usually bouncing with energy.

"And?" she asked, scratching her fingernails over the skin at the nape of his neck lightly.

He wet his lips, and she felt his tongue brush ever so lightly against her lips. She leaned into him a little more. "I love you, Jules," he said. Though his voice was soft, it was steady and sincere.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but his gaze stayed calm.

She gripped his hair firmly in her fingers and then she closed the minuscule distance between their mouths and kissed him. His eyes slipped shut and he tightened the grip of his arms around her. He kissed her back slowly, thoroughly, confidently, taking his time and tasting all of her.

When she finally pulled back, she rested her forehead against his.

"I love you, too, Shawn."

She opened her eyes just enough to see the brilliant smile that lit up his face.


End file.
